Um.
I clamp my lips shut, grateful when the server sets a dirty martini in front of me. I don’t normally drink these, but I have a feeling I’ll need the alcohol.
Or a good excuse to leave early.
“So what are you looking for?”
Brian shrugs. “I’m looking for someone to hang with. You know, have a good time, take a few trips maybe. Be chill.”
Wow.
He wants to hang and be chill.
If that’s a code word for something else, I’m not smart enough to know what that is, but for at least another half an hour, I suffer through Brian rambling on and complaining about his ex-wife. I listen to him telling me about his incredible job and how important he is at his office, and the trips he takes around the United States to schmooze clients. I listen to him talk about a drunken Jamaican vacation with his fraternity brothers from college, and how their friend Stephen disappeared for an entire twenty-four hours before they found him, passed out “butt ass naked” on the beach.
How is that funny?
He and his friends sound like immature assholes.
The entire time he’s talking, my stomach roils with disgust…I cannot stand this man.Not only has he asked barely any questions about me, but it’s also clear to me that his moral compass is completely off.
Duke was right. Brianis a fuck boy.
Deep down inside, I knew Duke was right, but I didn’t want to admit it—at least, not to him.
Not out loud, anyway.
God, I hate myself for being on this date.
What’s worse, the other guests at the bar and grill are looking at us as if they know it’s our first date and think it’s so romantic that we’re just getting to know each other. One woman keeps glancing over at us and smiling at her husband, tapping him on the forearm and pointing as she does it.
It’s nauseating.
I don’t want anyone to think that I amwith himwith him.
I glance at the time.
It’s been forty-five minutes, and at this point, I’m justified in heading for the hills. It’s for my mental health!
I yawn for good measure.
And when the server comes over to check on us, I tell her I’m good and don’t need anything else.
“You’re not going to have another one?”
I look down at the beer in his hand, wondering how many he’s had since he got here.
“Nope, I’m good.” I pick up my purse, tucking it back beneath my arm. “Actually, I’m really tired and have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Early? It’s Sunday.” Brian laughs.
“Yeah, there’s a flea market I’m going to with a friend, and we wake up at five.” The lie slips off my tongue.
“You couldn’t pay me to wake up at five.”
“That’s why you’re not invited along,” I tease, anxious to get the hell out of this place.
“Oh come on now.” His hand touches my arm. “Are you going to at least invite me over for a nightcap?”